Awkward Moment
by InTheMindOfTheWriter
Summary: The awkward moment when you find Sherlock Holmes in your bed. SherlockxOC


**I know I should be working on Assassin, but my brain just doesn't want to, it's confusing like that. But I came up with this and earlier today and I just had to write it! :) hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters (unfortunately****) except for Robin who is my own character.**

**Awkward Moment**

Bright morning sunlight streamed through the frosted bedroom window of 221b Baker Street and rested on the sleeping figure of Robin who lay peacefully in the large double bed. Warm rays of golden light caressed her pale cheek as her eyes fluttered and she awoke from her silent slumber.

A low groan escaped her lips as Robin stretched her aching muscles, the cold morning air biting her exposed skin. She cracked open an eye and turned her sleepy gaze towards the clock that sat on the bedside table which read quarter past ten. Robin groaned again, normally she would be up before dawn and keeping an eye on Sherlock, but after spending the night before chasing a psychopath around London and getting shot _twice,_ she decided that this morning would be the perfect time to have a lay in.

_Sherlock_

Robin's sleepy gaze drifted towards the door. She wasn't the only one who had been hurt last night. Sherlock had been shot in the arm too and that fact that she was in his bed right now meant that he had most likely slept on the sofa, which can't have been very comfortable with an injured arm.

_That is, if he even slept at all, _she thought. There had always been something about Sherlock Holmes that fascinated Robin. Most people would call him weird or a freak because of his cold, emotionless shell while others were amazed by the way he could pick up information from the slightest detail.

But for Robin, the thing that fascinated her most was the amount of effort he put into hiding his natural human traits and the small moments when his mask slipped. He could go on for days without eating or sleeping but there would be those rare moments where she would find him curled up on the sofa, sleeping so peacefully that he almost looked like a child. He could also distance himself from human emotions such as fear or love, but even for Sherlock Holmes those _meaningless feelings_ as he put it, sometimes slipped through the cracks. The worry in his eyes when John had been captured last night or the fear that grasped his features when Robin herself had been shot both showed that he did care.

Robin sighed and rolled over onto her side as thoughts of the consulting detective swarmed through her mind. She pressed her face into the pillow and inhaled deeply. The sweet, delicious scent of Sherlock that lingered on the pillow filled her senses and made her slightly giddy.

_Sherlock_

Her heart leapt in her chest at the very thought of him. From the moment they met they had never really got along. He would always complain, he had no manners or respect for anyone, he would always get her into trouble and at the end of the day he infuriated her to the point where she was so close to throttling the life out of the bastard. And that was why she couldn't live without him.

A small smile crept onto her lips as she wrapped her arms around the pillow and snuggled closer into its radiating heat. The arm around her waist tightened and pulled her closer into the warm embrace.

Robin's eyes snapped open. She lifted her head and looked down at the pillow she had been resting on. It wasn't a pillow. Her arms were wrapped around a warm muscular torso, covered by a thin blue shirt. Her gaze slowly moved upwards to a pale face that was peaceful with sleep, surrounded by messy dark brown curls.

"SHERLOCK!"

Sherlock's ice blue eyes snapped open just as the warmth of the bed disappeared from beneath him and was replaced by the cold morning air as he landed on the cold hard floor with a loud thud.

John stuck his head in through the doorway, a smirk formed on his face when he saw Sherlock face down on the floor by the side of the bed with Robin screaming at him.

"You two up yet?" he asked. Sherlock raised his head and glared at his flatmate.

As Sherlock pushed himself off the floor a large book went flying through the air and collided with the back of his head. Sherlock dropped to his knees and held his head in pain.

"What the hell was that for!" he yelled, glaring daggers at the fuming young women that sat on his bed.

"For sneaking into bed with me that's what for!" she screamed as she threw another book in Sherlock's direction. The detective climbed to his feet and dodged the flying object.

"Why would I have to sneak in, it's my bed!"

"Because I was sleeping in it!"

Another book flew towards him. Sherlock ducked, the book narrowly missing his head which had already been abused enough this morning. John ran into the room and grabbed Sherlock's arm before he could say anything else that would upset her. As the two men retreated for the door another round of books came flying at them. They dived out of the room and slammed the door shut.

"There is only one thing in this world that I will never truly understand," growled Sherlock as he collapsed onto the sofa.

"What's that?" John asked, confused as he sat down in his own chair.

"Women!"

**THE END**

**Hope you all enjoyed. I will now work on the next chapter of Assassin. Please review because I love to hear what you all think.**

**RosexScarlet xx**


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